


Oh Christmas Tree!

by kittenofdoomage



Series: The Twelve Days Of Kinkmas 2017 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Flogging, Kinks, Light BDSM, Restraint, Sex, Smut, Whipping, first time bdsm, gagging, slight humiliation, twelve days of kinkmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 12:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Sam isn’t overly impressed with the Christmas tree you’ve started to put up, until he finds something in the decorations box that shouldn’t be in there…





	Oh Christmas Tree!

 

The bunker was a mess. Between clearing out old junk while the boys were on a hunt, and finding ancient Christmas decorations - and some things that were more kooky talismans than baubles - you’d absolutely trashed the place.

But it looked… Christmassy.

Providing a home in a military style bunker was hard, but you tried your best for the boys. You’d had a stable home growing up, until you’d been thrust into the life as a prophet of the Lord (which just sounded like bullshit) and had decided to tag along with the Winchesters. Neither of them had been particularly happy, until they discovered that you were very much the mothering type.

Well, when it came to Dean anyway. He was more than happy to give in to your cooking, cleaning and the way you made his shirts smell like fresh linen or honey blossom. You knew every single quirk he had, and you were in your element making sure the man who had spent his entire life looking after others, was looked after by someone else for a change.

Sam was the opposite. Things had simmered slowly between you, before culminating in an argument about your homemaking that had him confessing that the only home he wanted was one with you. That wasn’t possible - neither you or him were about to give up the life - but Sam accepted your place in the bunker, as long as that place was in his bed.

He’d thoroughly marked his territory.

Now, while they were on a hunt, you’d decided that it was December, and Christmas was only a few days away, so you were intent on making the whole place look nice. A trip to the store had you with a box of new decorations and tinsel, and your adventures into the MoL storage rooms found an old tree that just needed a bit of love, and some garlands.

Tinsel was hanging from the bookshelves, and you were bent over in the War Room, rummaging through another box of decorations, when the door upstairs opened and Sam’s voice filtered through. “Y/N?”

“Down here!”

You could practically hear the moment he stopped and gaped at the mess you’d made. “So, Christmas threw up in here.”

With a giggle, you stood straight, only to find Sam stood directly behind you, his eyes glazing over at all the sparkle. “I thought I’d make it a little more… seasonal.”

“We have a tree,” he commented, pointing at the seven foot pine in the corner. “A fake tree?”

“Absolutely. I found it in the storage facility downstairs. It’s not an evil tree, I tested it with holy water.” You moved past him, picking up a box of baubles and placing it on the table, not paying him much mind as he rooted through boxes himself. “Hey, these are funny looking baubles,” you mused, lifting the little ornament out of the box, holding it up for Sam to inspect. It was two spheres, connected by a thin ribbon, with a loop at one end to hang them from.

“They’re, er,” Sam chuckled, taking them from you, “not baubles.”

Your cheeks colored, and you stared with wide eyes at the not-an-ornament. “What are they?” He didn’t answer, dragging the box away from you and sticking his hand in it. A few seconds later, he pulled out a thick black rubber plug - clearly  _ not _ a Christmas decoration. “Is that a friggin’ butt plug?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam drawled. “Where did you find these again?”

“Downstairs,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Maybe someone covered them up with the decorations to hide them?” Nerves made your heart pound as you looked into the box again. “There’s… that’s a…”

Sam’s laughter was low and shouldn’t have been such a turn on. “Merry Christmas to me.”

“You like this stuff?” you questioned, not worried if he did, but more curious. Your sex life had always been good, but it was… vanilla. At the most, you’d ventured into handcuffs, and light restraint, maybe the odd spanking. But the way Sam’s eyes were lighting up at the various implements - were those nipple clamps he was pulled out? - it was giving you ideas of the kinky variety. “I mean, it’s not a bad thing if you do, I’m just -”

“I do,” he admitted, looking a little worried as he glanced at you. “But I can do without it.”

Taking a breath, you looked at the things he was pulled out, feeling your core heat up a thousand degrees, arousal pounding between your thighs. “You sure about that?”

His eyes connected with yours, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and his breathing visibly quickened. “Are you… suggesting something?”

“What would you do to me if you could, Sam?” you breathed, pressing against him, running one finger down his chest. “Tell me your darkest fantasy.” He shook his head, but you could feel his cock hardening in his pants, tenting the fabric.

“Dean’s gonna be in any minute,” Sam warned, but his eyes were dark as he looked down at you, almost like he was towering over you. His breathing was heavy, and the atmosphere between you became thick and heavy. “Fuck, you’re a bad girl, Y/N.”

You batted your eyelashes, letting your hand drop from his chest down to the crotch of his pants, squeezing him through the material. “Don’t you like that?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of his. “That I’m a bad girl. Do I need to be punished, Sam?” He groaned, and you felt his cock twitch in your grasp. “Or would you prefer… Sir?”

“Fuck,” he repeated, groaning as he pushed you backwards, taking control and you squeaked in surprise when you felt the prickly pines of the Christmas tree at your back. “What’s wrong?” Sam teased, trailing his fingertips along your jaw. “Weren’t you expecting me to take you up on that offer?” You swallowed, wondering if your legs would continue to hold you up as his lips descended onto yours…

And Dean chose that moment to slam the bunker door shut, stomping down the stairs with his duffel on his shoulder, before he noticed the chaos of Christmas that you’d started. You darted out from underneath Sam’s hold, all too aware that your cheeks were flushed and you were almost sweating, but Dean seemed oblivious to that, and more focused on the mess.

“Did a Santa tornado come through here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Moment broken, Sam moved away, chuckling loudly, leaving you to Dean and the explanation of your Christmas spirit.

*****

Dean took his leave later on that evening, heading out to a bar for some company, or so you presumed. You were still trying to decorate the tree, but reaching the top was becoming a problem. Climbing up onto one of the library chairs proved precarious, and when Sam walked into the room, he was just in time to catch you as you lost your footing.

“Good thing I was here,” he joked, his large hands clasping your hips and lowering you to safety. “You could have broken your neck.”

You laughed nervously, all the thoughts of earlier coming back in a rush. “My hero.”

His smirk was lopsided, and for a moment, you were stuck in silence, unsure what to say. “Do you want me to get the angel?”

“Cas?” you frowned, and Sam laughed loudly, pointing to the top of the tree. “Oh, no! I was going to put a star up there. Angels are a little…”

“Cliche? Or too close to home?” Sam offered, and you smiled, nodding. “Little of both. Gotcha. Where’s the star?” You pointed to the box you’d thrown it in earlier, and as he walked over to get it, you found yourself captivated by the way he moved. Even in clothes, he was like a predator, every little thing about him oozing sexuality, and when he turned, you realized you’d forgotten to breath. “You okay?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling a little light headed as you watched him place the star on top of the tree - an easy reach for him. “Sam…”

“I haven’t forgotten about earlier,” he warned, turning to face you with dark eyes, and breathing went out the window again. “What did you do with the…”

“I put them in that box,” you said quickly, almost tripping over your words, directing his attention to the box you’d pushed underneath the lit up war room table. “I didn’t think Dean would wanna see that sort of thing.” The words came out nervously, and Sam smirked again, pulling away to walk over to the table. “You’re… you really like this stuff?”

“Some of it,” Sam clarified, picking the box up like it weighed nothing, opening it to peer inside. “You found more?”

“Apparently the original occupants had quite the, er, appetite?” you replied, wringing your hands together as Sam picked through the items. You’d found numerous other things among the decorations, including a flogger, a gag and something that looked like a harness, but you weren’t sure. These things you’d only ever seen online, but you weren’t going to lie about the amount of adult erotic fiction you’d consumed in your private time.

Sam seized on something, picking it with a excited flare, holding it aloft. “Oh, I think I like this.” It was the leather flogger, studded with diamante down the handle, with dozens of thin straps flaring out from the end. His gaze turned on you, and you felt like you might wilt. “You don’t have to -”

“I want to.”

The suddenness of your reply took him aback for a second, before a wild, animal-like grin spread over his face. He stalked towards you, holding the flogger out, and you took it, all too aware of your heavy breaths and the curling of arousal in your core. “I think you definitely made it onto Santa’s naughty list this year, Y/N.” Your fingers curled around the flogger, feeling the softness of the leather, before you snatched your hand back, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. “Over the table.”

“In here?” you squeaked, and he nodded slowly, standing back so you could get past him. With only a second of hesitation, you walked towards the table, coming to a stop beside it.

“Pull your pants down and bend over,” Sam ordered. “Show me that beautiful ass.”

The temperature in the bunker shot up by a thousand degrees, and you bit into your bottom lip as you obeyed, tugging your pants down. Sam’s presence was heavy behind you, and when he touched your bare skin, you jumped.

“Fucking wet already,” he groaned, dipping two fingers between your legs. “If I’d known you were such a dirty girl…” His touch vanished, and you almost keened in need. “Sssh, sweetheart. Gonna tan that ass up nice and red.”

It didn’t hurt, not really. The sting lingered after each hit, but in a pleasant way that sang down your spine, making your insides clench. You didn’t know if Sam was keeping the blows light because you’d never done this before, or if your pain threshold was actually that high. Or if you were just that much of a kinky bitch.

Ten strokes in and he stopped, standing back to admire the redness of your skin. “Do you want more?” he asked, caressing the tormented patch on your left ass cheek. You could only manage a nod, and Sam chuckled. “Harder?” Another nod. “Goddamn, you’re gonna kill me.”

This time, the hits were twice as hard, and on your untouched right ass cheek. Still, it wasn’t the sort of pain you’d expected, and by the time Sam had completed the ten strokes, you could have sworn there was slick running down your legs from how horny you were.

Sam moved away, rummaging in the box again, before pulling out the gag, offering it to you. You knew if you said no, he’d oblige, but you wanted it. This sort of thing only existed in stories for you, so having it come true, and with Sam? Best Christmas ever. 

The gag slipped on easily, and Sam stripped you of the remaining clothes you were wearing, leaving you naked while he was still fully clothed. Plucking the wrists restraints from the box, he secured your hands behind your back, and ordered you to stand. Your nipples hardened in the cool air, standing to attention as Sam inspected his handy work. “I think that’s enough for now,” he commented, stroking his hand down your back, before squeezing your ass. “Don’t wanna scare you.”

You wanted to tell him that you weren’t scared, that you trusted him, but with the gag in your mouth, you couldn’t speak. Instead, you met his eyes, smiling at him to try and convey your point. He returned the smile, sitting down in the chair you’d tried to use as a ladder.

“Come and sit down,” he motioned, patting his lap. You could see the straining erection underneath the denim of his pants, but he wasn’t making any move to undo them.

Balance was a slight issue with your hands bound, but you managed it, sitting gingerly on his lap, feeling his cock press into your ass. Sam groaned, cupping your breasts, dipping his head to suck one hard nipple between his lips. You whimpered through the gag, powerless to do anything but endure his ministrations. He took his tip, teasing one nipple then the other, letting his fingers dip between your thighs to trace your soaked folds.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, gaining a quick nod in response. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve wanted to do these things with you? I was always too afraid to ask.”

Again, all you could offer was a smile, that was quickly destroyed as he slid one finger into your pussy, curling it in just the right way. You jumped in his lap, your thighs parting automatically, and Sam returned his attention to your breasts, keeping the pace of his hand slow to draw out your pleasure.

You didn’t know how long he was at it, but all you could focus on was the star at the top of the tree, sparkling under the bunker lights. Everything seemed a little out of focus as your climax spiralled higher, and your body clenched around his intruding finger, desperate for more friction.

“You want my cock, baby?” Sam asked, thrusting his hips slightly, obviously seeking the same thing. “Want me buried inside you until you can’t see straight?”

The muffled “fuck, yes” behind your gag was all he needed, and he picked you up, carrying you to the table. It was cold under your ass, and you could just about touch the top with your fingertips, but Sam wasn’t pausing to let you adjust. He unbuckled his belt, freeing his cock from its prison, and you sucked in a breath through your nose, watching him rub against you, teasing you even more.

When he sank home, you wanted to cling to him, but you were deprived of the opportunity. Instead, you could only spread your legs further while Sam used you, fucking into you over and over until you knew you’d soaked the table top. You were screaming and panting behind the gag, loving every second, even if it felt like your ass was on fire from the earlier flogging.

“Love you so much,” Sam growled, placing one hand on the small of your back to prevent you toppling, the other clutching your thigh hard enough to leave bruises. “Can’t believe I’m so lucky…” he trailed off, and you leaned forward, burying your face in his chest as you came again, tightened around to him enough to make him groan.

His climax came seconds later, and you felt it, the warmth pulsing inside you, filling you up. Sam always came a lot - he was a big guy - but this felt like a literal river of cum dripping out of you when he pulled away. He quickly unbuckled the wrist restraints and pulled the gag from your mouth, allowing you to take a deep breath.

Soothing the sore flesh on your arms with his fingers, Sam smiled at you adoringly, bending to kiss you quickly. For a moment, he looked worried, until you grinned and pulled him close, seeking out the comfort of his warmth.

“What else is in the box?”


End file.
